


Sleepovers

by booktick



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Threats of Violence, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael wakes up with one hell of a hangover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepovers

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: There isn’t much to say about this other than this is the first Michael/Trevor, as well as GTA5, fanfic I’ve posted online so that’s something. I hope you all enjoy it, I did my best.
> 
> Warning(s): Cursing, Several mentions of alcohol, use of pillows and talks of fists doing stuff, etc.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

 

Michael could feel the stickiness on his chest and belly before he smelled it. The thick aroma of whiskey and any other hard liquor this side of Los Santos. It was on his chest and maybe even thighs so that must’ve meant ‘Mand was out on a trip and Trevor stayed over. The smell made his stomach groan.

He told himself the hour drive back to Sandy Shores would have been hell, for Trevor and any poor, sad and ignorant pedestrian on the way there. Trevor had to be somewhere near but he’d be damned if he was gonna open his crow feet eyes until at least five more minutes. The heavy, pathetic groan in his right ear must have been Trevor.

A just as pathetic arm hit his chest and knuckles touched Michael’s lips. It was the sensation of heat against his jaw that had him realize hair scratched at the flesh there. The sticky smell came back when the lump of life that was attached to the arm turned sudden and hard against him. It had shifted the bed’s weight.

There were lips, he hoped it was lips, that smacked at his right ear. He heard another groan, more primal than the previous. It made the butterflies in Michael’s stomach die and a weight grow heavier instead. The lips tickled his ear and the weight stretched inside his stomach.

“Ahhhhh…Mikeeey.” The hand that had been at his lips went to his throat “Wakey, wakey, Princess.”

Yup. Trevor fuckin’ a Philips. Fuckin’ a indeed.

“I know you’re awake, you fuck. Open those peepers for me.” The fingers gripped Michael’s chin.

The fingers eventually trailed down from his throat to his chest. Trevor was always a whiny little shit and the fact was proven right when Michael had felt his sticky chest hair yanked. His eyes flashed open and he reacted fast, a elbow hit Trevor right square in the chest. Trevor wheezed and Michael scoffed.

“Fuckin’ a, T?” Michael asked.

“Jeeeezus!” Trevor cried out.

Trevor wheezed more and rubbed at his chest. The Sandy Shore resident had the gall to look offended and pleased all at the same time. Once Trevor started to move towards Michael there was only an icy reception that awaited. Michael gave him silence and a cold shoulder as he shoved Trevor away and turned on his side, his back to his friend.

“OhhhhHhhh, you _sneaky_ little cheat.” Trevor croaked “You wanna play with Uncle T then you pull that shit cheap shot? For shameeee, Michael. What would your mother think?”

“Probably how cold the ground is since she’s dead.” Michael mumbled, mostly to his pillow.

There was a pause and, for a moment, Michael hoped that meant Trevor had given up. There was a shove of his face into the head and nails that dug into his scalp soon after said pause.

“Liar.” Trevor growled.

Trevor never gave up.

“Fine, fine. Not dead.” Michael slurred into his pillow.

Trevor relented after a moment but kept a grip on Michael’s hair. The taller man leaned against him, lean stomach on his fat back. It made the twang of the whiskey fill his nose and make the urge to puke rise fast. He could have elbowed the bastard but didn’t, just laid there with the little hope and dignity he had left. He could hear Trevor’s soft whine. He must’ve really disappointed Trevor this time. Hell, with Brad there had been silent rages and spit hitting his face and everything in between.

But this? This…

Michael almost felt bad for ol’ T.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, Michael. But you’re not. You’re just clever.” Trevor mumbled into his shoulder.

“Mhm.” Michael agreed.

The weight shifted again on the bed. Trevor had sat up and Michael didn’t dare to look. He could see his friend in the mirror anyway from where he was. Trevor had hands over face and elbows on knees.

Fuck.

Michael shoved himself up by his palms after two very long minutes. His groan heavyweight as he turned to face Trevor. His gut told him to fuck off, to take a shower and prepare the laundry to get the smell of liquor out of the bed sheets. Instead, he had slung his arms over Trevor’s shoulders. He ended up sat like this for a while, rested his chin on his arm, cheek to Trevor’s neck in total silence save for their timed breaths. Michael would inhale and Trevor would exhale–repeat. It was Trevor that broke the silence first.

“Fuck off, Townley.” Trevor muttered.

“De Santa.” Michael mumbled.

Trevor pulled his hands down and glared hard at the carpet. The carpet must’ve really pissed Trevor off because there was no response after Michael’s correction. Michael sighed and pulled away, a pat to Trevor’s back. He reached for the last beer that leaned against the headboard.

It could be his cheat day-

Trevor tore the beer from his hands faster than his lips could part. He started to protest but one look of their eyes meeting had him quiet again. Trevor turned away and eye contact was broken though the grip on the beer bottle said all. He watched as his friend poured beer onto the carpet. The stain grew as Trevor continued to pour.

“I’m not going to have you slurring out lies. If you’re gonna lie to my face I’m gonna make sure you’re sound of mind, Mikey.”

“T, that was good beer.” Michael’s voice was a higher pitch than he meant to use but…the beer…

The poor beer that just left a huge ass stain in the carpet ‘Mand just had redone. The fucker was on the cusp of tantrum, he could feel it. If he pushed Trevor anymore, Trevor would slip off the edge into jealous mode. He thought against bringing up Amanda at the moment.

“Too fucking bad, _M_.” Trevor mimicked the higher pitch.

That brought him out of his thoughts and he scoffed. Michael leaned back against the pillows, folded his arms above his head. He had the nerve to smirk.

“You,” Michael started “Are adorable.”

“Excuse me?” Trevor had the reddest face.

“You heard me.” Michael pushed.

“… _Fuck off, you fuck_.”

Trevor grabbed a pillow from behind Michael’s head and raised it. Michael didn’t move an inch after, not prepared to be smothered via best friend drug dealer. That would have been one hell of a news headline though. Pudgy Middle Aged Filmmaker Smothered By Balding Sandy Shore Resident.

It made him laugh anyway, Trevor would be another story at the moment.

“I’ll fuckin’ shove my fist down your throat if you fuckin’ say that again, Michael. I swear it.” Trevor was all huff and puff.

He hoped.

“How creative.” Michael replied.

“ **Fuck you** , Michael.” Trevor grumbled.

“Did that already. With your fist actually? If I recall correctly.”

The pillow came down on his face hard and sudden.

Worth it.


End file.
